


Hiltibrant enti Hadubrant

by rialtoir



Category: Hildebrandslied
Genre: Crack, Hildebrandslied - Freeform, I suppose, Lay of Hildebrand, M/M, OHG, Song of Hildebrand, Sugar Daddy, also very pompous English?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:09:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24145639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rialtoir/pseuds/rialtoir
Summary: The old classic with a new twist.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 7





	Hiltibrant enti Hadubrant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SwanFloatieKnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwanFloatieKnight/gifts).



I heard it said that once two men met on a battlefield: Hiltibrant and Hadubrant, of two opposite households, in fair Germany, where we lay our scene: sugar daddy and…sugar son.

They straightened their armour and fastened their swords, then rode out to meet between the armies. In the middle of the flowering meadow they halted, a few paces apart, the sun glinting off their helmets. They studied each other for a moment while the wind rustled through the grass and the horses’ manes. Then Hiltibrant spoke, his voice grave with importance. “Who do you call your father, or from which family do you stem? For I know all that there are, the mighty and bold ones, and those to whose name honour clings, the legendary heroes.”

Hadubrant tilted his head, scrutinizing Hiltibrant, and answered: “My…father was called Hiltibrant, the only one I ever loved. They say he left because he had to, though I do not deem it possible. It is far too easy an explanation, and I suspect another reason for his untimely departure. For that reason I shall consider him dead to me.”

_Pale morning sunlight streamed through the dusty windows. Hiltibrant opened his eyes, rubbing the sleep away, then sat up and looked at the dormant body next to him. Hadubrant’s hair made the golden band that snaked around his upper arm look grey. His skin seemed as soft as white rose petals, and, Hiltibrant chuckled a little, the stubble on his chin resembled small thorns not yet capable of hurting. He stroked Hadubrant’s hair, wrapped one curl around his finger and watched it slowly glide down. Then he swung his feet out of bed and got up._

_The old farm they lived in was more than Hadubrant could have ever hoped for. Hiltibrant had left his post with honours, retiring to the country with the intent on spending the rest of his life with afternoon naps and no company except his dog. Then he met Hadubrant in town on one of his rare trips to buy necessities, and the extraordinarily beautiful features of the young man caught his eye. Though hidden beneath a layer of dirt, and his well-formed body obscured by saggy cloth, Hadubrant had been an unusually arousing sight. When he took Hiltibrant up on his offer to come work on his farm, Hiltibrant was surprised. He was sure that there had been women, too, who would have taken him in for far less labour, but the young man chose him over those supposed other prospects.  
It took a while until the proximity of their days carried over into the nights, but the slower a progress, the stronger its effects. After a year, they felt that whatever change might knock on their door, they’d turn it away without a second thought._

_At least that was the case until Hiltibrant received the fateful news that an old enemy had followed a trail of bread crumbs to this exact town, and found that the man who had supposedly lain with his daughter – it had been the son, but such minutiae were often lost on men of exorbitant strength and barely life-sustaining brain size – was residing in an old farm house not far away. Thankfully, he had been warned early, and was prepared to hide in the forest for a few days. It was a coward’s plan, and Hadubrant would have insisted on defending him, but the risk in letting him try was too great for Hiltibrant’s taste. So it would be a short retreat into the woods, with no message for Hadubrant, lest he be recognized as Hiltibrant’s companion and troubled for information, and then a timely return._

_Unfortunately, when he left the house and turned his steps towards the far edge of the fields they tended together, a sudden bellow from behind made him halt. “Who goes there in the morning fog, hiding like a thief?” Upon recognizing both from voice and stature the man who had hunted him, Hiltibrant fled. He knew not that his journey would be a long and exhausting one, nor that Hadubrant would, after waking to an empty house, leave as well, first searching for him, then trying to forget, nor that they weren’t to meet again until all was too late._

_So he ran, with only his memories of his white-gold rose to brighten his days._

Birds were chirping in the distant forest, swooping overhead, unbothered by the strife of men. Yet, crows were already gathering around the edges of the field, perching in the branches and watching, waiting. The two men had locked their eyes, bright fires burning with resignation and ire.  
“God alone knows,” said Hiltibrant finally, “that no man has ever faced someone so dear to him in battle, with no way to surrender to anything else but fate’s decree.” He unfastened a golden band from his arm and offered it, crying: “If friendship, if love, ever meant anything, hear my prayer and halt, that companionship may encompass us once again!”

_“I want you to have this,” Hiltibrant said. Hadubrant stared at the snaked gold bracelet, then at Hiltibrant. “For your work,” Hiltibrant added quickly. Hadubrant took the bracelet. “What work do you mean?” he said with a grin. “There has been nothing but pleasure for me.”  
Hiltibrant looked relieved. “Do you want to stay here? I will pay you, since your life will be far longer than mine, if God will. Double for day’s and night’s exertion, should that be the price of having you.” A year had gone by, and though they both acknowledged that they were no strangers anymore, there was uncertainty in both about their future._

_“I will stay and take double payment.” Hadubrant looked at Hiltibrant austerely. “I take this golden band as the first instalment and as sign of our contract.” Hiltibrant, unable to contain his joy, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed his rose-bud lips._

Hadubrant pulled on his horses’ reins, forcing it to take a step backwards, and raised his lance. “A token like this shall be received with the spear, tip to tip!” Hiltibrant opened his mouth as if to object, but Hadubrant continued talking, loudly. He had not forgotten that they had an audience. “You, old man, are cunning as the devil, trying to win me over with trinkets only to betray and stab me as soon as I fall for it. It has been said, it still rings true: Hiltibrant is dead.”

As thunder growls, so did these words, and they hit Hiltibrant with lightning’s force. “I see from your splendid armour that you have found a different master, a better one, you’d surely claim. While you began a new life, I have wandered restlessly without aim, searching for death, and thereby forgiveness, in battle, but God never saw fit to take me, and now the reason has been revealed! I am to kill what I vowed to protect, promised to keep and swore to love, or be killed in turn! How beautifully fate has woven our threads, only to cut one off before the tapestry could be finished!”  
He put back the golden band, secured it on his arm, and readied his lance. His horse pricked its ears, sensing the resolve of its rider, and shifted in anticipation. Hiltibrant bored his eyes into Hadubrant’s, cool determination hiding his tears. “So take my armour, if you can, and sword and horse as well. If I am as dead as you claim, surely this won’t be hard on you.”

Hadubrant returned the stare and fought to suppress what tore at his heart and sunk iron claws into his soul. “If fight is your desire, then I will gladly quench your thirst. May the one who triumphs take both our armour.”

With such words, their fight began. As spear strikes wood and sword meets sword, so feelings clash inside each of them. A wolf may fight with fang and claw, but the heart is an even more vicious beast: it pulses painfully, both white-hot with anger and cold as a grave from sheer pain, until the soul must think it shall split in two.

As the two knights battled in the field, sparks flying from the blades and blinding tearful eyes, their fate was nearing an end: for one of them must eventually fall.


End file.
